


Not Part Of The Plan

by KoolJack1



Series: Hannibal Kink Meme Prompt Fills [14]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3238142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoolJack1/pseuds/KoolJack1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the time leading up to the finale, there was silence and peace, hope.</p><p>In the quiet of the night, unaffected by the end, Hannibal confronts his demons and Will tries to stick to the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for the kinkmeme, but I can't find the prompt (I'll keep looking). This has sat unfinished on my computer or a while now, so hopefully I'll have the second half reasonably soon.

Hannibal wouldn't exactly call the man before him reborn, but he certainly isn't the same skittish, uncertain man he was introduced to in Jack Crawford's office. They have forgotten the pretense of sitting across from each other, acting as if Will Graham is still his lost and confused patient and he is still his concerned friend.

They sit at Hannibal's house now, wine in hand and a fire burning behind them. The room is dark enough that it conceals some of their features from the other while they sip and speak quietly of private thoughts. In the way Will has transformed, Hannibal has transformed too; captivated by this man that has chosen his side. Will is sitting beside him and seeing him for what he is now, and the knowledge warms his insides more than the wine they drink.

When he speaks of Mischa, the name seems to drag itself out of a locked closet in his mind, dust tainting the pristine surfaces of the other rooms. He swallows and trades looking at Will for looking down at the dark wine in his glass.

Will doesn't offer an awkward condolence for a loss that has been buried under years and years of life, and Hannibal is glad.

"You said you were orphaned," Will breaks the silence that trailed his confession about his deceased baby sister. In all the times he's seen Will's inner thoughts and secrets bared before him- the moment was finally there to reciprocate. He meets the eyes of the man to his left and considers. Will meets his eyes evenly; they're clear and free of judgement. Will is accepting of anything he will say right now.

"Yes."

The other man dips his head so his dark curls fall in his face, then he looks up again, "How long before your uncle took you in?"

"Nearly eight years."

Will leans forward and exhales slowly, a frown gracing his features, "In an orphanage at the age of eight; old enough to remember what happened and too young to emotionally grasp it."

He finds it interesting how Will chooses the word 'emotionally' when emotions aren't something associated with what he is. It's in that sentence he decides Will really does understand him, it isn't a hoax or a game. He understands that he is unique in his evil, and that not all evil is born.

"I was traumatized," he admits finally, pretending the room is dark enough to cover their words, "I stopped speaking, I had difficulty sleeping and eating. It's typical for a child who witnessed such atrocities to shut down."

Will sets his glass down on the table and runs a hand through his hair, his mouth pulled down into a distinct frown. "Did this orphanage have the capabilities to handle your needs?" The tables shift quickly, and Hannibal is the focus. Will pictures a small boy with messy hair, his wide eyes afraid and uncertain of the environment around him. Somewhere in his chest, the image makes him ache.

"There were many children there, all of which needed help. It was a resource they couldn't afford to waste on one who refused to cooperate."

"One who needed it the most. It must have made you an easy target, silence and fear." Will whispers the words, so quiet Hannibal could have pretended he didn't hear him. He doesn't, too enamored by the fact that he's finally voicing these haunting memories that he locked away deep in the palace that is vast enough that he never has to call on them.

"I was. It's easy to torment someone who doesn't possess the power to alert anyone else."

"No risk of being caught when the victim can't speak." Victim hangs in the air, and the truth comes out that the predator was once the prey. Will sees the little boy bruised and petrified, the shadows on the walls moving around him and he has no where to go to escape them.

He stares at the man before him, reserved and calculated- cruel and evil. He looks back, but the hard emptiness in his eyes is filled with humanity.

"It's easier to do more than torment them," Will says finally, and the look that flickers across Hannibal's face confirms his thoughts. Will feels himself empathizing, and this wasn't part of the plan. The plan was to build trust and catch the man, not feel sorry for him.

It takes a few minutes for Hannibal to speak, and when he does his voice is hoarse, "It's easy to do anything to someone who won't scream."

Will's blood feels cold and he gulps his wine, "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I always figured experiences like that would interfere with sexual encounters as an adult."

"In some cases. To my knowledge the lasting effects of abuse sexually hinders women more than men. I haven't engaged in sexual encounters with men in adulthood, I don't perceive women as a threat."

Will nods and fidgets with his hands in his lap, "It's rare for there to be a women that is a pedophile, their instincts are naturally different than ours. They nurture, we destroy, statistically. I suppose they aren't a threat because you already know who has the upper hand."

Hannibal grits his teeth but keeps his face neutral, "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a rapist."

"I would never insult you and say you are, merely that if push came to shove, you'd have advantage against them."

Hannibal backs off the defense and sips his wine again, pivoting to look at the dying fire. He feels more than he hears Will move, then there is a tentative hand slipping into the hair on the back of his neck. He shuts his eyes at the sensation, consumed by the violent memory of being shoved back onto a cot and held down. He remembers struggling and freeing an arm to claw at the face of his attacker, propelling forward to bite whatever skin he could latch onto.

"I wasn't compliant, I fought with all the strength I had," he leans back into the hand on his neck.

"I don't doubt it," Will responds without thought. Hannibal sets his glass on the desk and stands up swiftly, turning to face Will. They're so close, close enough that they breathe the same air and this man is here and accepting. Hannibal kisses him gently, their lips not parting. Will can't stop the guilt that creeps into his stomach, and he hopes that Hannibal will interpret it as a reaction.

Will lifts his hand to the sharp cheek and parts his lips slightly, feeling the twitch of muscle at the contact. It's Hannibal who brushes his tongue along Will's lips and coaxes Will to tangle his. It doesn't feel like a first kiss, they'd shared more intimacy than a kiss, but the closeness makes Hannibal feel less confused.

Will tries to ignore the guilt; he's here to catch Hannibal not break his heart. He didn't want to admit that there was no way to separate the two. Hannibal lifts his hand to lightly rest on Will's side and that's when he steps away, "I should leave."

Lecter frowns at him, looking at him from under the hair that hangs in his face. "If you must."

He's torn in the moment, wanting to leave and pretend he never heard any of this. It only complicates things, Hannibal wouldn't have shared it with him if he wasn't completely sure Will wouldn't use it against him. Leaving now would take him back a few steps, Hannibal would be guarded and careful with him again. The look Hannibal gives him pulls him in and he kisses him more solidly, and Hannibal responds in kind.

He doesn't have to ask how it began, he can see behind his eyes how it happened. He can watch the small boy scramble away from someone too big for him to fight off. An adult, a man, someone no one would suspect. He imagines Hannibal would fight hard, fight the losing battle until he physically couldn't. He knows he had fought with his teeth and his hands, running for the nearest object in the room as soon as he wiggles free. He could imagine Hannibal, naked and shaking, clutching a fire poker and backing himself into a corner. He wouldn't scream but he does choke for air, swinging the weapon blindly because he can't see through his tears.

It stings Will, the injustice. A horrifying crime against something so defenseless. Will nips Hannibal's bottom lip, intrigued by the way he flinches but doesn't pull away. "Did he tie you down?" He whispers against the lips over his, "At least at first? Since you wouldn't behave."

He doesn't get an answer and he doesn't expect one. He already knows, and he says the words to break through Hannibal's mind. He was tied down the first time someone fucked him, and he was afraid and in pain. It sends chills to his core and he stops kissing Hannibal to wrap his arms around him. Hannibal immediately reciprocates and hugs him back, nuzzling his face into Will's shoulder.

Hannibal feels raw, open, and exposed. It's so new and uncharted that he wants to explore it further. Will is the person to explore it with him. "Can we move into the bedroom, perhaps?" Hannibal whispers into the silence, even the fire has stopped crackling.

Will wants to say no, decline and not make this any harder than it already is. "If you're sure." They both know what will happen in there, behind closed doors in the silence of Hannibal's empty house. Hannibal moves first, stepping back and heading towards the stairs. Will had never been on the second floor of the house, and he follows closely behind and into the room at the end of the hall. It' elaborate and eloquent. Will looks at the bed and imagines the way Alana must have felt being in it. Hannibal reaches out to touch his face in a disturbingly innocent gesture, and Will responds how he instinctively knows he's supposed to.

He takes the hand and guides it away, instead pushing Hannibal towards the bed. It's not forceful, he's careful to not threaten with his movements. He pictures the way Hannibal was once thrown on the bed and held there, and instead he kneels and reaches for the buttons of Hannibal's shirt. He sees a small child with a knife pressed to his throat, _bite me and you die_ , and he believes the threat enough to keep his jaw slack when his mouth is fucked. Wet clicking in his throat when he tries to breathe, small hands reaching for something to clutch and instead finds his wrists held and his hands ball into weak fists.

It was at eight years old when Hannibal Lecter wanted to survive so badly, just so he could seek revenge. Will pushes him back by his shoulders and gets between his legs on the bed, "You never had a chance," he whispers. pressing comforting kisses to the vulnerable skin of Hannibal's throat. There's a distinct tension in the other man's body, Will can't even feel an erection pressing against his hip and he isn't hard. He withdraws and moves to sit up, only to be pulled back down.

"Please continue," Hannibal looks at him with the same wide eyes he could see on a much younger face.

Will reaches again for the buttons on Hannibal's shirt while they move up the bed, "I don't want you to force yourself, Hannibal."

Will leans forward to kiss him, and Hannibal turns his head away. There were no kisses the first time he did this. Will relents and moves to the buttons of the other man's slacks, "I'll be gentle." The words make Hannibal shiver, and they weren't the right ones because he tenses harder and reaches up to grip Will's shirt. He pushes and Will grabs his shoulders to steady himself, absorbing the shove and pressing Hannibal back against the mattress. "Relax."

The moment breaks and Hannibal shoves him harder, though Will is sure it isn't as hard as he can. "I can't do this," Hannibal admits, and he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

Will doesn't push, he accepts. "I'll leave." It isn't a threat, it's a comforting promise. He'll leave and never bring this up again.

"Sleep here with me, your dogs will be fine for one night." Will stares at his back, observing the way the muscles pull under his shirt. He thinks about where this is all heading, the bloodshed that is sure to come. In this moment, the quiet and darkness of a room exists in a time undisturbed by whats to come.

"Alright," Hannibal turns to look at him over his shoulder then, his eyes hiding all of his feelings as he stands to remove his slacks and his shirt, pulling on a pair of flannel pants instead. He looks so casual when he lays back down, and Will takes his cue to remove his own shirt, leaving the pants on. They lay side by side on the bed, two enemies pretending to be friends. Hannibal isn't pretending, he's convinced. It makes Will's chest tighten, this wasn't the plan.

"When we leave, I wish to show you Italy. We could attend the opera, it's amongst the finest. We could see Rome, France…" Lecter whispers to the ceiling, and Will swallows heavily because wanting to go with him was never part of the plan.

"I'm not very cultured."

The bed shifts slightly when Hannibal reaches for his hand under the covers, Will holds it back, "You don't give yourself enough credit, you appreciate beauty. I can show you everything the world has to offer." There's a nostalgic note in the words, and Will wants to pretend he doesn't hear it. The silence carries on then, and Will wonders if Hannibal is imagining it- them together exploring the world. "I want to try again, Will."

"Why?"

"Who better to share the experience with than you?"

Will turns onto his side and takes in the shadows on Hannibal's face, "I'm not sure what you'd want me to do, exactly."

"Be the aggressor, erase that memory and make a new one with me." It sounds so sick and twisted, and if Will was talking to anyone else he would immediately seek professional help.

"And if you can't?"

"I have a substance that will ease the experience for both of us," Will wonders where his life went wrong that he's laying in bed with a serial killer considering taking drugs together in order to recreate a childhood trauma.

"I wouldn't take the drugs."

Hannibal turns his head on the pillow to look at him, "Just me, then."

His next words are all part of the act he's putting on, yet he regrets them all the same, "You want the first time we have sex to be… of this nature?"

Hannibal smiles at him, his lips slowly pulling into the expression, "I didn't really entertain the idea that our relationship would have a sexual component until very recently. It wouldn't trouble me, its something that would make any time after be more pleasurable." Hannibal inches closer to him, waiting a second before closing the gap and kissing him. Will knew it was coming again since the first kiss, and he's surprised by how little it bothers him when Hannibal presses down on him. The kiss is sweet; it makes Will's stomach turn when Hannibal puts a palm on his face and strokes his fingers down the column of his throat.

Hannibal backs off then, laying next to Will. He looks calm and open, an expression WIll had never seen on his face before. "Tomorrow I will make us breakfast and we can try again, if you're up for it," Lecter says, looking expectantly towards Will.

He really believes, the thought makes Will cringe. Instead he nods once and offers a tiny smile in return, Hannibal leaves him be after that, and it's not until hours later, when Hannibal is already fast asleep, that Will feels him subconsciously roll towards him and curl up against his side. Will lets him, intrigued by how Hannibal is with his guard down. He shuts his eyes and tries to remind himself that this is was has to be done to catch this man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Will wakes up to the smell of meat being cooked, meat that he doesn't call bacon. Standing in the doorway, he stares at Hannibal's back while he stands at the stove. The plush white robe is snug around him, but it's his eyes that attract him when he turns around. Hannibal's pupils are blown wide, and as soon as he sees Will standing there, he smiles easily.

"Good morning, Will," Hannibal greets, "You're just in time for breakfast." Sausage, bacon, eggs, and cheese are distributed onto two plates and carefully set on the island. Will sits down calmly on the stool, smiling back when Hannibal pours them orange juice and his hands shake.

"When did you take mushrooms?" he asks casually, the guilt settling into his stomach again. He had hoped Hannibal would retract his offer from yesterday and let it go. Apparently this meant too much to him.

"Only about a half hour ago, I'm starting to experience the effects," Hannibal stares at him openly, and Will realizes he could do anything to him right now and the other man wouldn't resist. It's empowering, the sense that his reckoning is close enough to touch. When Hannibal smiles at him again, ducking his head almost shyly to focus on his food, Will swallows the lump in his throat. Why didn't a reckoning feel good?

"You're sure about this still?" Hannibal eats slowly, chewing more than what was needed for such food. Will eats a few bites while he waits for the other to speak, glancing at him every so often.

"I am," he says finally, looking over at him again, "Unless what I've told you has changed how you feel about me."

Will knows he should say yes, it's for the best, it'll hurt them both less in the long run. "No, of course not," he whispers, smiling comfortingly when Hannibal looks utterly relieved.

Hannibal moves then, abandoning the food and sliding off the stool to kiss Will. Will lets him press close to him, stroking the back of his hair soothingly. "Thank you," Hannibal breathes against his mouth before he buries his face into Will's neck. Will tenses his jaw and hugs the other man back until he pulls back on his own, "Finish your breakfast."

He does, trying to buy time. Hannibal doesn't eat anymore, he just sits and looks around the room. Will watches him, imagining what he must be seeing as an hour rolls around and the effects must be in full swing. Will drains the rest of his juice and inhales deeply, he was too far into this to back out now.

Hannibal's heart will be broken no matter what he does now, he doesn't admit to himself that his own heart is invested in this too, but he might as well live in this one moment. He turns swiftly and doesn't hesitate to turn Hannibal's face to kiss him. Lecter tenses when he's pulled out of his haze, but he doesn't resist Will's mouth. Hannibal's hands come up to touch his sides, and he counters the movement and guides them back down. He interlaces there fingers instead, grounding them both in the moment.

Moving to the bedroom would finalize what's about to happen, and instead of prolonging the tension, Will just backs up to lead the way.

 _I'm sorry_ he wants to say when he pushes Hannibal onto the bed and unties his robe. _I'm so sorry_ , he presses kisses to Hannibal's chest and bites his nipples until the other man twitches and tries again to grasp his hair. Will stops him again, pressing his hands back down to his side but not letting go of them.

At least he's hard this time, but Will doesn't touch his erection; instead he moves to his knees and looms over Hannibal's chest. He slips himself free from his boxers and doesn't let himself think when he tilts Hannibal's head back and presses the tip to his lips. "Don't bite me," he whispers, holding onto his hair tightly to keep his throat open. Hannibal's breath comes quicker and shallower, parting his lips obediently so Will can press the head in. "You're okay," he reassures when Hannibal blinks up at him, swallowing heavily. He presses in further, feeling the narrow passage of his throat constrict when he brushes against it. Hannibal chokes and twitches, his hands coming up a third time to grab Will's waist. Will lets him this time, letting go of his hair to hold his hands.

Hannibal squeezes his hands every time Will presses forward, and he only stops when tears start to flow from the corners of his eyes. He brushes his hair back from his face and lets him gasp for air wetly while he slides down to press kisses to his throat. "More, Will," it's raspy and quiet, but Will hears him, "You can hurt me."

"I don't want to hurt you," Will whispers back, then he pinches the bud of his nipple in contrast to the words. Hannibal gasps, his pupils completely blown out and black.

"It was… intense," Hannibal admits randomly, swallowing and looking away from Will to stare at the ceiling. He doesn't need to ask what he's talking about, and he uses Hannibal's distraction to slip his hand down between them. "More than intense, it was overwhelming," Hannibal cries out when Will presses his fingers between his cheeks, "…Consuming," he chokes, reaching out for Will again, and is denied. Instead Will presses his wrists above his head with his free hand.

"You can still say no," Will reminds him, brushing his fingers against the back of his balls just to feel the skin tighten, "We can lay here instead, you can tell me more about where we would go." He brings his face right to Hannibal's ear, hiding his face just in case his guilt is too transparent, "Where we will go."

Hannibal's hands ball into fists and Will relents so he can hold onto him, and it eases the coiled tension in Hannibal's body when he can cling to Will's shoulders. "After," Lecter breathes, and Will can hear in his voice that he's crying and he can't look at his face. "Lay with me after, I will tell you more of the places I will show you."

Will sighs and nuzzles his cheek when he presses a finger further just to breach the opening. Hannibal's breath hitches and Will shushes him quietly. "Do you have something to make this easier?"

"In the drawer," he retrieves it quickly and puts it liberally on his fingers, this time they slip in easier. He watches Hannibal's face scrunch up at the intrusion, and Will doesn't stop. "I remember feeling so full," he says, blinking up at Will, "When I thought there was no more space… there was more."

When his crooks his fingers, Hannibal arches his back and whines, extra sensitive from the drugs. Will presses his free hand to the center of the chest to keep him still and does it again. Hannibal's nerves scream and he twists his head and loses his breath. "What did it feel like?" Will asks, stroking his chest and slowly moving his finger, observing the scene below him.

"Like being split open," he gasps, and Will kisses him four times when he presses a second finger in to join the first, using his whole body to keep Hannibal in place when he spasms under him.

"Easy, it'll feel good in a few minutes," Will reassures, biting his lip at Hannibal's answering grunt. "You're raw, alive. What does it feel like to be touched from the inside out?" Then he quirks his fingers again and rubs relentlessly on that spot that sends Hannibal writhing under him.

Hannibal doesn't answer him, and Will doesn't say anything else when he lubes himself up and gives no warning when he replaces his fingers with his dick. Will is mesmerized by the way Hannibal's body seizes at the intrusion, his muscles contracting and quivering. It wasn't part of the plan to enjoy this, it wasn't part of the plan to feel like he was doing Hannibal a favor.

He strokes his hair and waits for Hannibal to open his eyes, "Look at me." He does, he looks up with unfocused, blacked out eyes. The look is so vulnerable and raw that Will feels the desire to tear into his chest and rip him apart further.

Instead he gives the man what he asked for, he jerks his hips forward and intercepts his shaking hands when he desperately reaches out to hold onto Will. Hannibal tries to interlock their fingers, but Will grips his wrists tightly instead. Hannibal takes it, his head rolling back and forth on the pillow and his hands tensed into fists. He's still hard, so Will doesn't stop.

He keeps going, holding the other man still until Hannibal is panting and keening, his erection leaking between them. Only then does Will let his hands go and reach down to touch him, jerking him off until they're both coming and Hannibal is curling around him. Strong arms lock around Will and rolls them over. Lecter clings to him, and Will holds him back and listens to his nearly frantic breathing start to level out.

"Florence is beautiful, I'd love to watch you under an Italian sunset," Hannibal murmurs tiredly, his honesty a result of the drugs and the frayed nerves. Will clutches him tighter, frowning at the ceiling, glad Hannibal isn't looking at him.

"I won't measure up to the environment," he states, letting his eyes fall closed and picturing them in Italy. Hannibal would be so disturbingly human, Will can imagine he'd even be excited.

"You're a piece of art, Will," Hannibal sighs, burrowing closer to him and tugging the comforter up around them. "We could leave tonight, feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana…" Hannibal proposes, and Will supposes he isn't totally taken off guard by the suggestion. "Almost polite. We could be in Italy by tomorrow."

It was not part of the plan for Will to actually want to go.

He thinks of Jack, their plans. Alana, and the way she just wants this to go away, the way she wants them to be wrong about all of this. He thinks of Abigail…

"They need the truth, they need to see the Chesapeake Ripper," Will wonders, later, after it's all over, if this was the moment that Hannibal knew something was amiss. Or was it something else, or maybe he knew all along and hoped to sway things the other way.

He wonders if he stayed quiet and held onto him after that in hopes that they could hide away in his bedroom long enough for the world to stop looking. He thinks of his dogs, wondering if Jack went by his house looking for him and instead found the dogs and cared for them, suspecting Will was off furthering their plan.

They lay there for what seems like a long time, almost until eleven in the morning, before Hannibal bolts off of him and huddles over the toilet to vomit what little he ate back up. Will kneels at his side when the mushrooms leave him gagging into the bowl and tries to comfort him like someone who might be in love would do. It scares him how easily it comes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add one more short chapter, then that's the end of this for now unless season 3 inspires me. Unbet'd

"Where are you, Will?" Jack's annoyance bleeds through the phone, and Will nearly sighs. He imagines telling Jack how his day really went. Hannibal vomited for almost an hour, and Will sat there feeling useless until he collapsed back against him and muttered an apology. Sweat glued his hair to his face and his muscles shook with weakness, Will held him up until he was sure he was done being sick before he hauled him back into the bedroom and onto the bed. He should have left him there, left the house and never came back. Instead he wet a cloth from the bathroom and cleared the sweat and dried fluids from his skin. His eyes were drawn to scars on his skin and he had tried to convince himself that it was too late to feel sorry for the other man and he shouldn't feel guilty.

He should have tucked Hannibal into bed and left, but instead he pulled on clothes and found himself downstairs washing the dishes from their breakfast. "I'm at Hannibal's."

There was a long pause, and Will stared down at the soap in the sink while he waited for Jack to speak. "I came by your house, fed the dogs. What are you doing there?"

Nearly ruining everything, "He invited me to eat, thank you for taking care of the dogs." He winces when moments later he hears something from upstairs, "I have to go, I'll call you back."

"I'll be waiting." Will hurries back up to find Hannibal twisted in the bed sheets, crying quietly in his sleep. He should leave, he's supposed to hate this man, but he feels drawn to the bed. He frees Hannibal from the sheet and lays behind him. Eyes closed, he listens to the uneven breaths rush in and out of Hannibal's lungs while he strokes his chest and presses his face into the strong shoulder blades.

"Where did you go?" Hannibal whispers, clearing his throat.

"I cleaned up in the kitchen while you were resting," Will waits, feeling Hannibal raise his hand to hold onto his and he can't deny how utterly fucked up this whole situation is. He can't ignore just how twisted and crazy his life had become since meeting this creature, yet he's here holding him through nightmares and Hannibal is in love with him.

Hannibal loves him. "You're okay, right? I didn't hurt you?"

There's a quiet laugh and Hannibal turns over to face him, drying tears on his cheeks. "No, it was the best sex I've had in a long time."

Will laughs now too, and his mind automatically goes to Alana- "You were high as a kite, it doesn't count." Hannibal's smile shows teeth; sharp and crooked. His pupils have shrunk back to size, and Will gently pushes his hair from his eyes.

"I'm sorry I put you in that position," then Hannibal shifts and Will knows he's going to kiss him. It's hesitant but Will returns it gently, wishing to convey how sorry he is for all of this.

"Don't be sorry."

Will thinks about those last few days when he finds himself in Hannibal's house again, with Jack and Alana dying and Abigail coming back to life and Hannibal covered in blood and looking at him like he stole all the air in the room. His eyes are all black again, glistening with unshed tears when he steps towards Will. He can't bring himself to shoot him, even when Hannibal guts him physically like he knows he gutted Hannibal mentally.

He lays there in his own blood and watches the heartbreak play out on Hannibal's face and it's not possible that just days early they had laid in Hannibal's bed and whispered back and forth about the places they were going to go together. Hannibal is cleaning up, and when he cuts. Abigail's throat he finally realizes what has happened here. In the wake of emotions, Hannibal Lecter was helpless. Will had torn down his walls and forced him out into the sunlight but hadn't stayed to ease the transition and he couldn't let them all live after that. He had to remind Will of his nature since he had shown him his humanity.

Hannibal gets close enough to his face that for a second he thinks he will kiss him, but instead some of the tears drip down his face and then he's gone.

He crawls to Abigail and wishes he could say he's sorry, wishes it would matter if he did, because they were supposed to be in Italy right now.


End file.
